A wave of memories cuts through Capochin like a stiff winter breeze. Visions of a hundred other Bizzyboys trotting off to complete a task, head and tail held high with pride. Then the memories of that pride slowly fading, and the anger that took root, completely unaware that the anger is what caused that to happen.
Shit.
Capochin goes to his own work with helping people around the festival, checks in with Grujaja, and then at last meets up with Patty. Like the other Bizzyboy, he approaches with food in hand.
"Hey kid. Good woik out there. I figured you earned yaself some lunch." He holds up the plated sandwich and a glass of strawberry wine. "How'd everything go?"
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A wave of memories cuts through Capochin like a stiff winter breeze. Visions of a hundred other Bizzyboys trotting off to complete a task, head and tail held high with pride. Then the memories of that pride slowly fading, and the anger that took root, completely unaware that the anger is what caused that to happen.
Shit.
Capochin goes to his own work with helping people around the festival, checks in with Grujaja, and then at last meets up with Patty. Like the other Bizzyboy, he approaches with food in hand.
"Hey kid. Good woik out there. I figured you earned yaself some lunch." He holds up the plated sandwich and a glass of strawberry wine. "How'd everything go?"